


In Darkness

by lost_spook



Category: Sapphire and Steel
Genre: Gen, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 09:25:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silver doesn't like assignments that begin with him alone in a place where nothing is as it seems.  These things shouldn't happen to a technician, especially not more than once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sophia_Prester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Prester/gifts).



> Some vague spoilers for Assignment Six.
> 
> Happy Yuletide!
> 
> (With thanks the ever-patient and speedy Persiflage for the beta!)

The room appeared ordinary enough; a little gloomy and shabby, perhaps, but otherwise like a hundred others in unremarkable homes. That was not true, however, and Silver knew it as soon as he arrived. 

He looked around him first, and then upwards at the ceiling. It seemed lower than it should be. The proportions of everything were wrong, he realised. There was very little furniture, only a table behind him, one chair pushed back against the wall, and a faded green carpet, but the chair was smaller than it should be while the carpet fibres were too large and thick. No, he thought, it was all very well on the surface, but as soon as he looked more closely at anything, nothing was quite _right_.

Silver moved across to run a finger down the wallpaper, which was beige with dark brown flowered patterns. Everything here seemed to be dingy, maybe even dirty. But that wasn’t the worst thing: he wasn’t getting any sense of where he was yet and he should know that.

There weren’t, he thought suddenly, turning again, even any windows. There was a dull light in the rooms, but it wasn’t coming from the electric bulb on the ceiling, either.

He touched the wall again and then moved away from it. He couldn’t sense what it was made of or what this building was, only a feeling of – of _wrongness_ , he thought, unable to be any more precise, which was part of the problem. He felt – well, he thought, the nearest approximation was to say he felt queasy and that wasn’t something that was supposed to happen to him.

And if he was here, where were the Operators? He didn’t want to find he had been sent too early again. The last time that had happened was not something Silver wanted to repeat. Thinking of that caused him to move forward, his thoughts instantly straying in another direction – perhaps a too familiar direction these days.

“Sapphire?” he called, but softly, wary of what else he might disturb. “Steel?”

“No, of course not,” said another figure, suddenly there and sitting on the table beside him. “Couldn’t you tell? I suppose it’s a surprise, but I thought _you_ would know, Silver.”

Silver raised his eyebrows and took a careful step backwards as the other man slid off the table and stood up in front of him. He _was_ surprised, although he did his best to ensure it wasn’t obvious. “Of course,” he said. “Plutonium. How nice.”

“Yes,” said Plutonium with his customary sourness. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

Well, yes, thought Silver. He felt doubly alarmed now. Anywhere that needed Plutonium to deal with an irregularity was not somewhere he wished to be.

None of that could be said, however, so he smiled brightly at Plutonium while making a show of looking him up and down. He was – in appearance at least – a tall man; thin, with a beak of a nose, and dark hair that was untidily arranged as his clothes – cords and a jacket that was done up with the wrong button at the front. 

“I see your dress sense hasn’t improved,” Silver offered eventually, and gave a pleased look down at himself – as impeccable as ever. He brushed down his jacket, straightened his tie and managed to radiate an almost tangible aura of smugness.

“My line of work is a little less –” Plutonium flickered a dark glance at Silver as he hesitated, his mouth curving sardonically “- _safe_. Not much call for the niceties, Silver, old boy.” 

Silver gave a short smile that admitted the other’s point without resentment, ignored the possible mockery, and waited for an explanation.

Plutonium gestured around him. “This place. It shouldn’t be here. There’s no life – no humans. So, definitely no houses.”

“One would assume so, yes.” Silver paused. Plutonium was a Transuranic Element – volatile and dangerous, but effective in cases that needed more drastic solutions – while Silver dealt in more delicate, technical work. An assignment warranting both was almost a contradiction in terms. “But why am I here?” 

Plutonium folded his arms and smiled at him mockingly. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it untidier than before. “Oh, come on, Silver. Surely _you_ can do better than that?”

“I’ve had a look, but I’m afraid I can’t quite see –” Silver hesitated, not liking to admit that he was at a loss. “However, I’m sure once I –”

“In the dark, are you?”

Silver bristled. “I _have_ only just arrived. If you’ll let me have another look, of course I shall be able to tell you.” But, he thought uneasily, he should already know more than this. His instructions weren’t usually this non-existent, nor were his impressions on reaching a location. Not unless something really had gone wrong again. He was beginning to suspect that it must have done. And that meant – that meant –

Plutonium grinned and then straightened himself, taking his hands out of his pockets. “Good. I thought it would do, but it’s gratifying to hear.”

Silver turned slowly.

“You were wondering, weren’t you?” said Plutonium. “Of course you were.”

Silver backed further away, hitting up against the table. Plutonium looked more hawk-like than ever, which, he thought, made him his current prey – _not_ a comfortable idea. “You brought me here? But why? If you mean to leave me here – well, I’m not much use to anyone shut in a box, am I?”

“Exactly,” snapped Plutonium. “Try it and see how it feels for a while.”

“Oh,” Silver said, and gave a small smile. “You still think you’re underused?”

Plutonium drew himself up. “I could make short work of so many assignments, but no. The occasional dreary job miles underground or out on lifeless planets and satellites, that’s what I get. And why, when I can control myself perfectly? I wouldn’t harm a living soul.” A spark shot out of his hand and he grinned again, wolfishly, showing his teeth. “Not unless I wanted to.”

“Well, there,” said Silver, even as he edged away, immediately distrustful of flames and sparks. “You’ve seen things I never have.” Technicians spent a fair amount of time waiting, too, he thought, although he didn’t say it. He always had something to work on or develop. Besides, he was rather good at what he did and frequently in demand, no matter what certain other people might say. “And humans – they’re a terrible nuisance, you know. _You_ wouldn’t like them at all.”

Plutonium glared. “They’re a nuisance because they cause the vast majority of the time breaks. Where does that leave me?”

They shared a look, involuntarily.

“Yes,” said Plutonium with a quick grimace. “So. Your turn now.”

Silver leant back against the table. He tried another approach, testing out the only explanation he could think of: “I… Well, I had an offer myself, recently. You perhaps…?”

“No,” said Plutonium. “Although maybe I will – if I get the opportunity. No, it’s not that. You just don’t understand, do you?”

Silver continued to listen politely, but he had his own views on that: they were all shaped for a purpose. Whatever Plutonium said, if he was questioning that, he was a step nearer the other side, anyway.

“The Transients,” Plutonium said, lowering his voice, even here. “It _was_ them?”

“Yes.”

“And if they’d succeeded,” continued the Transuranic, “drastic measures would have been needed. Yes?”

“Oh, really,” said Silver. “No, not _you_. There would have to be a catastrophic break before matters came to _that_. Worse, perhaps.” War outside of time, he thought, needing ever more extreme solutions – such as increased use of the Transuranics who certainly had the power to fight the Transients. He was beginning to understand, but he looked up again. “It still doesn’t explain why this. If someone finds out, you’ll be in trouble. I wouldn’t care to be in your shoes.”

Plutonium strode across the room and Silver noted more sparks emanating from him. “You retrieved them – Sapphire and Steel. If you vanish now, like this, what else could it be but payment?”

“One way or the other,” added Silver sourly. “Oh, yes. I see.” He as going to add that it still didn’t make sense, but halted himself. If Plutonium had crossed that line, had gone into one of his unreasonable, unreachable fits, there wasn’t any point in trying to tell him so. 

He could have objected: after all, what else could the Transient Beings have expected if they let him play about with their boxes, gave him a chance to escape – and left him in a place with plenty of coins and cutlery ready to hand? Besides, he had only expedited matters – he couldn’t imagine a prison that could truly contain both Sapphire and Steel, and certainly not forever.

Plutonium grinned again, putting his head to one side in sardonic amusement. “So, you see – nothing personal, old thing. Oh, no, wait. It is. Never have liked you, so why not?”

“Oh, well,” said Silver, looking beyond the other suddenly, as if he’d glimpsed something. He put his hands in his pockets for a moment and then removed them. “I see. If that’s how it is, then why don’t you get on and go? No point in you standing around here.”

Plutonium narrowed his eyes. “Silver…”

“Hmm?” said Silver, looking up from examining the surface of the table. “What? I thought you were going. You want trouble; you want to be busy; unfortunately I’ve got to stay here, yes? There really isn’t anything more you can say, is there?” 

“This isn’t a joke, Silver.” Plutonium grabbed at Silver’s arm – that Silver didn’t remove himself in time suggested things that Silver didn’t yet want to consider – and then looked straight at him. “Do you see?”

“You’re hurting me.”

“I meant to.” Plutonium released him and moved back, but there was a black mark on Silver’s grey jacket sleeve. Silver looked down at it and tried to brush it away, but it remained. He should easily be able to remove it or obtain another suit, but he didn’t like to try, in case he couldn’t. He didn’t want to risk giving Plutonium that satisfaction. “We can’t let _them_ make all the moves – we need to do something. And I can.”

“Oh, of course.”

Silver smiled and fished in his pockets, pulling out a coin – a coin that had come from a fruit machine in a place with no time – and threw it over to Plutonium who caught it. Steel, of course, would disapprove of his having taken it. “Good luck. I think you’ll need it more than I shall.”

Plutonium turned it over and then tossed it away, onto the carpet. “No, Silver. Is that the best you can do?”

Silver shrugged and ran a finger down the table top. “Whatever do you imagine I was -?” Then he laughed.

“Take this seriously, Silver! You really should. I mean it, don’t think I don’t.”

Silver was taking it completely seriously, though he carefully kept the smile on his face; his attention back on the table again as if it held the answer to everything. Oh, he was. Plutonium’s trap wasn’t elaborate; it was crude and simple and all the more effective for it. No one knew any of them as well as their colleagues and when one of them turned against the others… Silver felt afraid again.

“Well,” said Silver, lifting his head again to look at Plutonium, “you can hardly blame me if I don’t. You sound like a villain from one of their stories – the humans, I mean. If you’re going to start gloating at me now, I’d much rather you left.”

Plutonium drew himself up. “Fine. Why not, then?” And with that, he vanished.

Silver lost his expression of unconcern and hastily climbed onto the table. He reached up to the light bulb, removing it – counting seconds under his breath – and turned it over in his hands. 

He couldn’t help glancing behind him, but the room was still empty. Oh well, he thought, it had been a little obvious. Still, he pulled out the cable next –

“Ha. Is _that_ it?” Plutonium said, suddenly back again.

Silver turned around with a sheepish smile. “Well, it – I don’t know what you mean.”

“It won’t do you any good. _Nothing_ here will.”

Silver caught the emphasis and the gleam in the other’s eyes, and hesitated.

“But you know that,” said Plutonium. “You must know that.” Then he relaxed slightly and leant back as a mocking smile grew on his face. “Oh. Of course. Bluffing again, Silver, is that it? I should have realised. Is that all you ever do?”

Silver stepped down from the table, but Plutonium had gone before he could respond. He looked down at the useless light bulb in his hand. Whatever the real source of light was, that was also beginning to fail. He put the object down. Well, he told himself, he hadn’t really expected that to work. Plutonium knew how effective his trap was, no matter what Silver might imply. He gave a small grimace, because if Plutonium had felt his trap was too unsafe after all, it would have been the easiest way out.

Still, that idea had failed and he must do his best with what he had. He assessed the few facts he had gathered: this box was smaller than it appeared – something was wrong with its spatial dimensions. That was distorting everything to begin with, and it explained the sensation of wrongness – or most of it. He didn’t know what the box was made of. His first instinct was to try and find out, but he withdrew his hand, curling his fingers back into his palm. “No,” he said aloud. “No.”

 _Nothing here would do him any good_. It was designed to not only to imprison him, but to harm him? That was possible. There was plutonium in there somewhere; that made it harder to guess at anything else, but some other unhealthy substance – or combinations of substances – beneath the wallpaper, most likely with a lead lining and a solid outer casing. 

He could probably work it out, thought Silver, from the effects it had on him. It was a fascinating idea. As he became contaminated, degraded, what would happen to him? Would he be changed, even destroyed?

And, but for one small hope resting on a coin, he was going to find out.

 

The light died away completely and he reached in his breast pocket for a narrow torch and held it up, but its light also faded within seconds, as if the battery had been drained. Silver twitched and then tucked the torch back in its place. He never had liked the dark and Specialists didn’t generally work alone. For a moment, the horror of it overwhelmed him. This wasn't the sort of thing he was equipped to deal with; this was terribly unfair...

Silver couldn’t help himself: he rested one hand on the wallpaper, as if knowing was going to help. There _was_ a lead lining, he thought, and sat down on the carpet, his arms around one knee. He smiled sadly, because he’d have welcomed Lead himself.

“Silver, what’s this?” Lead would say, and then he’d laugh – and laugh – until Silver joined in: the ridiculous idea of Silver trapped like this, in a box. He’d be untroubled by what it was made of, easily able to force his way out.

Silver closed his eyes and thought of that coin. 

He wished.

“Silver,” Steel said from one side of him, as unsympathetic as ever. “You should know the Transuranics are unreliable. You can’t trust them.”

Sapphire knelt down on the other side; he could feel the touch of her hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like you to be so easily caught.”

They were in his mind now, always, but he’d rather they were here. It was so dark. He thought of the dead light bulb, the drained torch battery – and of other lights going out, long ago – a memory that shattered the more pleasant illusion. A long time ago, and Steel had been so _angry_ – no, not angry; why had he thought that? He had been dismissive, as if Silver was no longer even there, too unreliable to be considered. 

The past was not a place he usually revisited, but there seemed nothing else to do here. It had been almost a century ago now that thing had been waiting, waiting in the inky-dark cellar for him – or for someone like him – and if he had brought a quarter of a city into darkness when they had needed light, it hadn’t been his fault. He’d fixed it in the end. Mostly. Tried to, certainly. It was all a long time ago; it didn’t matter any more.

And that coin would only work if someone was looking, whether for him or for Plutonium; either would do. It was an unpleasantly thin hope, he was beginning to realise.

Silver emptied out his pockets, but there was nothing there that would help. His tools, one or two oddments but nothing useful. There weren’t, he thought, leaning back against the wall, even mice in here. A completely sealed box. He’d had mice in his pockets before, but not today. Today the mice were all running out of his pockets; his pockets were empty…

Others had been destroyed and lost, why not him? He could remember… No, he thought. No, not that. Not _that_.

Think of better things, he told himself, not the others who had been lost like this. He didn’t count his years like a human, but it had been a long time, and there were so many more pleasing things to recall if he chose. But all he could remember now were other dark times and places: attics, tunnels, cells, cupboards, under the floorboards, crypts. Funny how the darkness was always a different shade. And this, he thought, this was the worst he had known. It wrapped around him and crept inside him at the same time.

“You’re dying,” said Sapphire, stroking his hair. She sounded more intrigued than alarmed. “Can you do that, Silver?”

Silver considered it. “I think… I think I can, after all.” He found he agreed with her: it would be interesting. He would rather not, though. “Sapphire,” he said aloud, and then laughed shortly. Now he was fooling himself.

“No,” said Steel and gripped his arm – his hold as painful as ever. (He _imagined_ it was as painful as ever, he reminded himself.) “You’re not trying, Silver. You’re just giving up.” The scorn in his voice stung Silver into opening his eyes.

Yes, that was it, he thought, pulling his mind back together and sitting forward, away from the wall. Of course. That was how it was happening. He was giving in too easily: dying lights, empty pockets, mice scuttering away into the corners… He gave a short laugh as he saw how obvious that was.

Then Silver set his face. There wasn’t anything he could do, not this time, except for one thing – to hold on for as long as possible. He pulled himself up – and found he was suddenly clumsy. It was such an unfamiliar feeling that he was amused by it. He made his way across to the table and felt its surface under his fingers. It was wood, that was all. He climbed back onto it and sat there to wait, staring into the darkness. No more giving in, he decided. No one was going to come, but he could remain Silver for as long as it was in his power to do so. 

 

How long would that be, he wondered later, because he wasn’t sure of anything any more. He put out a hand to touch the table and found he was lying on the carpet. No, he was somehow on the ground – on hard, uneven and damp stones. He was waiting. Always waiting and so _angry_ at being contained…

No, no, thought Silver. That wasn’t _him_. And he was lying on the carpet, although he wasn’t sure when that had happened. Not the ground.

He shook himself and hauled himself back up by hanging onto the table. He stared ahead into the blackness and was sure he could see stars.

He was breaking up, he thought. Fragmenting; his vision going. As he thought it, something seemed to move in the darkness and he fell onto the ceiling, and then against the wall.

Then he was lying on the ground again. He kept his eyes closed. No, he told himself wearily, _not_ the ground. The carpet or the table. Or possibly, if it wasn’t only disorientation, the ceiling.

“Silver,” said an impatient voice – a voice not in his head. Steel’s voice. “Silver!”

He _was_ lying on the ground. He could feel stones under his hand; the air was different.

“Silver,” said Sapphire: a cool, amused presence he could sense as she crouched down by his head.

He opened his eyes and gave a hopeful smile.

“You know the Transuranics are unreliable,” said Steel from what seemed to be a great height above him. “You should have known better.”

Sapphire touched his hair lightly with the back of her hand. “It isn’t like you to be so easily caught, Silver.”

Silver sat up in sudden alarm and clutched at the nearest thing to hand – Steel’s leg, as it turned out.

“Silver,” Steel growled. “You’re contaminated, or don’t you remember?”

Real, thought Silver in relief. Unquestionably real. “Yes, of course,” he said, letting go. He smiled again.

“Is it too late?” asked Steel, over his head to Sapphire, as if Silver wasn’t there.

Sapphire got to her feet again. “No. I can take Silver back. He’ll help.”

“Will he?”

Silver glared upwards and tried to find a way to say that _of course_ he would, when he suddenly saw, instead of Sapphire or Steel, Lead looming over him – a threat, not Lead as he thought of him, but a dangerous and suffocating presence. There was fury within him again, uncontainable fury; violence waiting to be unleashed. He closed his eyes, trying to reassert himself, but this had eaten away at him too far for him to simply restore himself. Were there sparks dancing around him? He felt as if there were. And while that was a pretty idea, it _wasn’t_ a very good sign.

The sensation passed and he moved his head to see that Steel was crouching beside him, his hand a cold, restraining grip on his arm.

“I’m contaminated, remember?” He returned the words almost mockingly.

“Plutonium?” said Steel. “Has it gone too far?”

“I hope not,” said Silver, but he looked up. He couldn’t ask what he needed to ask, but he knew Steel would understand what he meant. “If –” He stopped and gave a small, unhappy quirk of his mouth. “Steel.”

Steel looked almost amused for a moment, and nodded. “If it comes to that, yes. I’ll end it.”

“It won’t,” said Sapphire; beautiful Sapphire, so very sure of herself. “Silver.”

Steel stood again. “ _Now_ , Sapphire.”

The world turned blue. Silver let her isolate him, pull him back through time, trying to help or at least not hinder. For that short while, everything was Sapphire. He had no problem with that, he thought, and couldn’t help but smile. Lovely, lovely Sapphire…

“Silver,” she said and he felt her amusement running through him. He grinned back up at her and kissed her hand in response.

Steel moved somewhere at the edge of his awareness, impatiently cutting in. “It worked?”

“It seems to have…” Silver sat up and then examined himself, looking down and holding out first one hand and then the other. Oh yes, he thought. He was completely _Silver_ again, and it was splendid. He glanced up at them both and smiled widely before reappearing on his feet beside them. “Yes. Of course it did.”

Steel merely gave a short nod. “Then we should go.”

“Go?” said Silver, looking around for the first time. They were underground – in some sort of cave, he supposed. He caught sight of the small box that was much as he had imagined from when he had been trapped inside it and knelt down.

Steel stepped forward. “Silver. Don’t touch that.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he said. “Still, we can’t leave _that_ there. Can’t you feel it? It’s distorting the space around it. Time, too, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“We know.” 

Silver turned his head. “Then -?”

“Lead will deal with it, after he’s finished with Plutonium,” said Steel. 

Silver knelt down beside it. “But I can do that.”

“We’ve only just rescued you from it,” said Sapphire. “You didn’t forget in the process, did you?”

Silver looked upward and brushed a stray strand of hair out of his forehead. “No. But I can deal with it. That is what I’m – what I’m here for, after all.” And he fished in his pockets and pulled out the coin and threw it to Steel.

Steel caught it and looked down at it disapprovingly.

“Plutonium,” said Silver. “You said…?”

“Neptunium noted his unauthorised absence. And… _that_ ,” Steel added, with a disdainful nod down at the coin.

“I thought _all_ the Transuranics were unreliable,” Sapphire said, holding Steel’s gaze until he shifted away, and she shot an amused glance at Silver.

“She’s not as bad as the rest,” said Steel, conceding nothing further aloud. “Anyway, Lead’s with her.”

Silver nodded and thought of what had passed through his head. “Yes,” he said, more quietly. “Yes.” Then he laughed briefly. “So you didn’t miss me, then?”

“I suppose we would have done,” said Sapphire, amusement lurking about in her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. “Eventually.”

Steel moved forward again, letting the coin fall back into Silver’s hands.

“Don’t you want to know how I did that?” Silver asked. “It wasn’t easy.”

“You reduplicated the coin and managed to hide the original on him somehow,” said Steel. “What do you mean, you can deal with this?”

Silver hesitated over which half of that speech to respond to and then decided – as ever – in favour of the business in hand. “I should be able to insulate it – and then between us we can safely destroy it.” 

“What is it?”

Silver got to his feet. He knew it inside and out now but somehow he didn’t want to put it into words. “A poisoned box,” he said, and for a moment there was a memory of the darkness in his mind; a cold shiver that passed through him. “Plutonium must have found it somewhere and picked it up – adapted it to his means. Perhaps he even made it. It might be within his capabilities, I suppose.”

“And you can deal with it.” Sapphire put her hand to Silver’s shoulder, running her elegant fingers down his jacket sleeve. “How?”

Silver leant back in towards her and smiled again. He didn’t have to think about the box any more. He was safe – and Sapphire and Steel were here, as if something had granted his wish in the darkness. 

“Well,” Silver said, reaching for the tools in his jacket pockets, “I will need a few things and I –” He gave a quick glance down at himself. “Better _not_ anything of mine, in case, so I –”

Sapphire handed him her earrings before the thought had even fully formed in his mind and he gave her a sheepish look. There were times when she really did know him rather _too_ well. 

“What else?” Steel raised a wary eyebrow.

“Yes, good question: what else?” Silver circled around Steel, examining him closely much to Steel’s apparent discomfort and Sapphire’s clear amusement. 

“Silver.”

He touched Steel’s wrist. “Your watch, of course. And I think – your tie –”

“Is this necessary?” snapped Steel, as Sapphire laughed and set to work on the tie for him.

Silver trained his features into his best innocent expression. “You _did_ ask, Steel. And, yes. It is. Now, I think… also your belt –”

Steel looked at him.

“To begin with,” said Silver with a smile. “The buckle, Steel.”

_Silver._

“ _And_ your jacket, please,” said Silver. Yes, he thought as Sapphire laughed, and began his work, he was every inch himself again and it was marvellous. He was sorry if Plutonium had gone too far this time, but there was no value in dwelling on that. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“He’s unstable,” said Steel, as if reading his thoughts. Perhaps he had been. “They’ll contain him until he’s ready to be used again.”

“Ironic, considering what he was trying to do,” said Sapphire. “Or poetic, perhaps.”

No, _not_ poetic, thought Silver, and shivered. Then he smiled brightly and waved the unwelcome topic away with a gesture of his hand. Best only to think of destroying this very unpleasant little box – oh, yes, he would take pleasure in that. And in thoughts he kept carefully private, he registered an intense satisfaction that they had come to find him – they had returned the favour, and not left him in the dark.

Then he rummaged through the items he already had, and directed a wicked look back up at Steel. “Hmm. Yes. And possibly some more buttons…”


End file.
